


"For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his gods"

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Drunken Shenanigans, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Spiritual, Swearing, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A bunch of oneshots written forGlaive Week 2017 on tumblr.Character Tags will update as the days go :)





	1. oh just remember the telephone works both ways

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the poem Horatius by Thomas Babington Macaulay, because...reasons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step to friendship is of course, difficult conversation.  
> Alternatively; origin story of Crowe and Pelna's friendship. 
> 
> Written for Day 1 Theme: Origins//Background
> 
> Rated G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Jason Mraz's song You and I Both

Everyone’s got an origin story. If you’re a glaive yours is more or less the same as everyone else’s, but.  If you have the newest recruit volunteering to take point every single mission without batting an eyelash at the significantly higher mortality rate, then it’s imperative you start asking questions. Because there are only two types of work ethic in the glaive: 'motivated' or 'martyr' and Crowe's been here long enough that only one of the two can be counted on to not get other people killed.

A sponge splashing against the wall right beside Pelna’s head isn’t the most dignified conversational opening, but she’s got his attention now, and she’d be damned if anyone ever caught her begging. Tredd’s supposed to double with him on scrub duty but he’s got a “hot date” and Crowe "owes him for a thing that  _never_  happened in Lestallum”, so.

Pelna watches the sponge track a line of foam and bubbles on its way to the floor before he glances back to her.

“Um–” he starts, a smile tugging at his mouth with his brows knit together, like he’s having a hard time figuring out how he’s meant to react.

Crowe can’t really blame him: he’s still the new kid on the block and this is their first time communicating outside of a high stakes life or death scenario. He always disappears before they can invite him to post-battle drinks (to coax his story out of him).  Libertus reckons he'll come round eventually and Nyx is usually too busy teetering on the edge of another 'suspension without pay' infraction to be concerned, so the onus is on her.

“Altius?”

“Crowe.”

“ _Crowe_ ,” he draws out the syllable cautiously. “Are you…?”

“I..." Fuck it.  " _Look:_ we can talk– _you_  can talk. To me. And I’ll listen. I’m pretty good at it.“  Ask anyone, she has to bite her tongue from saying.  

Pelna finishes off the line of tile he’s swabbing before carefully returning the mop back into its bucket. It’s the longest five seconds of Crowe’s life before he finally looks at her again.

_Probably thinks I’m an ignoramus._

“Um. What about?” Pelna goes. 

“You.” Crowe points.  

“Uh…huh…"

“I’ve been doing some reading. And–”

 _And there are signs that you should look out for_ , the books say. Little things that should not be taken for granted. Little things that should not be assumed just because someone smiles a lot. And Pelna smiles too frequently and too _easily_ for someone who foots a dry-cleaning bill longer than her own arm.  

_People are icebergs: able to share so much or so little at a time and still have three times that amount lurking beneath the calm…_

Pelna chuckles, and the sound of a sponge squelching against the floor beside her feet brings her out of her reverie.

“Icebergs, huh,” he murmurs.  He squeezes out the mop and starts on a new line, shaking his head. 

"Was that aloud?" _Of course it was._ "Like I said, I've been doing some reading. It’s not a big deal–I mean if it is to you, then it is to me–ugh I sound corny.“ Crowe grimaces, dragging a hand down her face. 

Pelna smiles. "Little bit." He teases, but there's no superiority in that tone, only a warmth that somehow manages to thread its way into every anxious cell in her body. She finds herself smiling too. Then she laughs, because she realizes all this time she's been trying not to look ridiculous and has only succeeded in doing the exact opposite.  That's a humbling first, she thinks, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

"I'm making this awkward, aren't I." She says, fervently glad Libertus or Nyx aren't around. 

"You're making an _effort_ ," he corrects, "and I appreciate it. I know what you're getting at."

She nods. “Point is: I care.  _We_  care, I mean.  You need to know that. ” 

Pelna’s quiet for a moment, his eyes clouding over  as he mulls that over in his head. 

“Thank you.” He says, but then scratches the back of his neck and looks away.  Crowe grins. He's blushing, isn't he?  Cute.

"Pelna," she starts, "it's--"

"No it's not that, just. See there’s not much to tell honestly, but no harm in multi-tasking, I guess?” He says it all in a rush, but lucky for him she catches every word--good listener, remember?--and nods.  He looks all the more relieved at getting it out, too, tension easing out of his shoulders. He picks up his mop, and Crowe goes over to pick up her sponge again, bumping shoulders with him gently as a final affirmation. 

"First rounds on me.  Cool?"

"Yeah. Cool." 

The scrub-down is a lot easier after that. 

Belatedly, she’ll realize by the end of it that he’s tricked her into doing most of the work, but she lets it slide just this once: it’s a long walk to the nearest pub, after all.

There’ll be plenty of time for payback until then.

 


	2. but hey we do it in style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a random snapshot birthday memory for Libertus featuring unlikely co-conspirators Tredd and Pelna.
> 
> Written for Day 2: Birthdays//Surprise
> 
> Rated T because shameless flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this one is from the New Radicals song "You Only Get What You Give"

“Before the Niffs invade,” Tredd yawned, finally breaking the terse silence outside Luche's apartment door.

Libertus, hand still raised to knock, shot him a dirty look over his shoulder. Pelna, who had previously been bringing up the rear moved to situate himself between the two. Not that Tredd didn’t deserve to get the snot beat out of him, but if they broke out into a fistfight in blatant view of civilians and that fistfight went  _viral_ , Tredd’s wouldn’t be the only head Drautos would be collecting. ("That's what the sparring circle's for!")

There was also the minor detail of Pelna being indebted to Tredd: enlisting his help in stalling Libertus for as long as was close to life-threatening as possible without arousing suspicion took cunning. Or; a disturbing lack of self-preservation because that smirk on his face never disappeared, merely drifted between the extremes of confidence and arrogance.  If not for the fact that Libertus was keen on redeeming his loss from [last week's poker night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979574) he would have walked five hours ago.

 _Five. Hours._  Pelna repeated in his head.  Five hours of listening to them bicker while he updated Crowe on the sly via Snapchat. He had a newfound respect for Axis and Sonitus now.  Or maybe those two just had an unnaturally high tolerance...

“What, too soon?” Tredd challenged, smiling over Pelna’s shoulder. “You know it’s inevitable, right?”

“So why stick around?” Libertus rapped his knuckle three times against the wood. “Luche, open up! Ice is melting!”

Tredd sighed dramatically, one hand on his heart, the other extended toward an invisible audience. 

“For the drama of it all? For the simple possibility that deep beneath this carefree exterior I am capable of complex emotions and actually give a shit about you guys?”

“And here we were thinking you were dead inside...” Pelna raised an eyebrow.

“12/10 customers at the Honey Bee Inn would happily contradict you, friend.”

Pelna snorted. 

Tredd winked. “Gotta lay the foundations somewhere,” he whispered.

Pelna coughed into his hand to hide a laugh while the tips of his ears reddened.  _Five hours_ with this snake charmer. And Infernian take him, he needed inside Luche's apartment before he actually started weighing the pros of the proposition made earlier that afternoon.  Tredd was nothing if not persistent, and when was the last time he'd gotten laid anyway-- _Ifrit incarnate_ _someone_ please _open that door._

Libertus’ efforts to get them into poker night meanwhile had attracted curious stares from Luche’s neighbors, peering out from half-opened doors dotting the hallway. He started banging on the door.  Tredd draped his arm casually over Pelna's shoulders.

" _So_ ," he began, dragging that one syllable unnecessarily. 

“Luche!" Libertus grounded out. "I _swear_ if you’re having sex in there--”

For the sake of their unit's dignity, Pelna coughed loudly to drown out the last bit and elbowed Tredd away.  

“Um. Try the handle." He suggested, suddenly fascinated with the welcome mat. 

Libertus did...to apparent success and a living room filled with glaives yelling out “SURPRISE!” before they burst into an off-key, if not enthusiastic rendition of  _Happy Birthday_.  Party-poppers were let off in his face: multi-colored streamers catching on Libertus’ head and shoulders, over and over until the man resembled a crudely tepeed house on Halloween night.

Libertus turned and glared as the tone-deaf harmonies of their comrades spilled out into the hallway.  As tradition demanded, he would not be let in until they’d sung the galahdian version as well, and that one had two extra verses.  

“I thought you guys didn’t talk,” he accused. 

“We don’t.” said Pelna.  He nodded at Tredd. “ _He_ , on the otherhand--”

“--has been all day,” Tredd finished with a wide grin. He pulled Libertus into a headlock. “Come on old man, time to celebrate another shitty milestone on the losing side.”

“You’ll get yours.” Libertus avowed.

Tabling that ass-kicking for the next time they met in the sparring circle, he let himself be corralled into the waiting storm of affection that was hugs, noogies, kisses, and butt slaps.


	3. it goes on (and on and on)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Crowe escapes the cacophony of Insomnia for a semblance of peace that only comes in with Galdin Quay's king tide.
> 
> Written for Day 3: Family//Remembrance
> 
> Rated M for some mature dialogue and implied scenarios

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from Katy Perry's Chained to the Rhythm

There was a day, a pivotal moment in a soon-to-be glaive's life when everything went to hell and their anguished cries for salvation awakened the sleeping gods. These were exceptional individuals whose souls had been judged and deemed worthy to serve the divine. Or so the LCMH (short for Lucis Centre of Military History) would write; they were romantic like that.

Everyone who wasn't a glaive _was romantic like that_. New recruits usually had those rose colored sensibilities bruised and bloodied right out of them after the first five missions-- ten, if you were particularly invested in the Lucian catchphrase. What remained was a sense of humor that was simultaneously morbid and grounded.  They referred to these days as 'anniversaries'.  

Crowe might have agreed that The Power played a 'pivotal' part in her survival up until now, but their place in Lucis was a far cry from salvation. "Fixed Contract with a rapidly approaching end date" was more appropriate.  The Power wasn't _theirs_ ; it was the king's and he was _dying_. She put two and two together after a month on the front-line: they were stalling. Until what and until _when_ , she didn't care to find out. Lucis had given her a family again and a roof over her head, and that was as good a reason as any to stick around and ignore Tredd's rants in the anteroom. 

Still; the inevitability of their predicament was reassuring.  It meant one less thing to worry about.  It meant more mind space to concentrate all her energy on the present.

Mostly.

Crowe didn't have an 'anniversary', where she sat back and reflected on the benevolent voices that saved her when she was a kid,  but she did have December 30th.  It was the only day when something so innocuous as its presence on her phone lockscreen was all it took for the floodgates to collapse, and the memories to converge. She had a good enough working relationship with Drautos that she could take a week off, and an unspoken understanding with her brothers that she didn't need to explain herself when she got back. 

It didn't stop Nyx however, from yelling out an overly dramatic:

"Oh, who _ever_ shall report my infractions to the Captain _now_?" 

 _Whom,_ Crowe corrected in her head, knowing better than to argue back.  

(Uncultured swine.)

 

. . . 

 

Galdin Quay in summer was Crowe's idea of a good time; a breath of fresh air that was for one thing, free from the fumes and exhaust of the citadel.

But also fishing.

She was a boatie at heart and nothing,  _nothing_ else could be more calming (if not distracting) while she reeled in a monster trevally on the king tide. Sometimes, when their schedules allowed it, Aranea joined.  Crowe knew Aranea from before the Emperor and the King got their hooks in both of them, and they agreed to never talk shop because the _first_ time they reunited, they'd spent the whole week trying to one-up each other on which side of the battlefield had the lower mortality rate.  (And they'd had sex after the fistfight that broke out, but that was a given. Crowe'd never tell her but Aranea was limber in the _best_ ways.) 

Aranea wasn't a boatie.  She spent  a good eighty per cent of her time in ships so the idea of spending more of that time in a vessel of a smaller scale left little to be desired, _but_. Aranea was also a pisshead who appreciated booze she didn't have to pay for and free reign to talk smack about her underlings.

The fishing charter was courtesy of her, naturally. Having been considerably high up on the Niflheim command chain, Aranea had connections: knew a person who knew another more important person, who slept with this other person they weren't supposed to, that sort of thing.  She also sometimes brought Michael ("Rescue. Don't ask.") with her, and Michael always brought her pigtails and unfettered eight year-old  honesty.

Crowe reasoned Michael's pigtails were a conduit for all the condescending things in the universe that eight year-olds could be capable of thinking and then saying out loud without any regard for consequence. She also reasoned they were probably why she hated the color purple.  (And maybe conservationists.)

"Are you trying to annoy Her?" Michael demanded.  "You're getting greedy."

"She's got bigger fish to--" Crowe paused and snorted at the absurdity of that sentence. _I mean it's **true** , but-_-a tug at the other end, stalled that train of thought. She pushed her sunglasses up into her hairline and straightened up a bit.  Michael bristled,  standing with her feet spread apart and her hands on her hips, almost like a mini-Luche.  

"Is that supposed to be funny? You're going to get us killed."

Another tug. Crowe spared a moment to cast a cursory glance at the woman lighting up her fifth  _cigarette_  then back to her pole. No, not _just_ woman;  _trained_ _dragoon_ who was a walking PR nightmare when it came to flouting Occupational Health and Safety protocols on the battlefield. (Or so the locker room talk went, anyway.)

"She could drown you if She wanted to." Michael insisted.

" _She_ is  _asleep_. _She's_ not--" Crowe clenched her teeth as she struggled-- "drowning. Anyone!" She exclaimed, as the trout broke through the water's surface, finally. She reeled it in, grinning. "Hah! Read it and weep!."

Michael huffed and rolled her eyes. Crowe held the trout up for Aranea to inspect:

"Gotta be at least two kilos."

Aranea looked bored as she twisted open another bottle. "And you _still_ struggled?"  
  
The rest of the afternoon continued in this fashion, Michael reduced to glaring silently from her corner and occasionally picking at Crowe's technique and fashion sense (apparently her 'bracelet' threw off her entire outfit). They made their way back to the docks as the sun began to set, and even though she didn't have to, Crowe still gave Aranea half of her haul. When Aranea refused, Crowe drudged up an embarrassing memory that the Galdin Hotel Management would be alerted to (she had _plenty_ where Aranea was concerned).  Then, while Aranea glowered, Crowe calmly loaded the second cooler she’d specifically brought along onto her pickup. 

It wasn't so much embarrassment at the memory that swayed Aranea as it was the fear of losing face in front of the Emperor _and_ her regiment  _and "_ that stuck up Nox Fleuret" if word ever got out.  But mostly the Nox Fleuret. Aranea  _hated_ him as much as she fantasized about having her way with him. 

("Seriously. I think he'd let you peg him." "Suck a _royal_   _dick_ , Altius.")

 

. . . 

 

"I'm being reassigned,"  Aranea blurted on the last day, while they were drinking in the sand dunes. They were watching the last of the families packing up along the beach.  "All hands on deck. Whatever it is, it's _big_. I hope your toy soldiers are ready."

Crowe saw a man scoop up a toddler into his arms before the kid could jump into the water again and felt her stomach twist into knots. Aranea, being entirely too observant, tried to touch her shoulder but was shrugged off.  

"Always," Crowe said hollowly, fingering the purple ribbon around her wrist.  The twin of the one Aranea had tied in her hair. Her gaze shifted beyond the family to the jetty where Michael was barely an outline now, drifting further and further away.

 _Always_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who wonders where the fish go  
> crowe and aranea give them out to families that need it on the way home
> 
> i live in nz so december is summer weather -- i just realized i might have confused folks eee


	4. red card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Drautos' orders are Followed To The Letter™
> 
> Written for Day 4: Bar Fights//Drunken Shenanigans//Secret Hobbies
> 
> Rated M for language and unsafe drinking practices
> 
> No ships, but there is a nod toward Crowe/Pelna. Also bees, because I love them ^_^
> 
> Some themes regarding immigration and malicious compliance. #canonwhatcanon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got out of hand, but i had fun xD  
> the red card is a terrible, _terrible_ drinking tradition between flatmates back when i was in uni. 
> 
> Shenanigans Playlist:  
> Go! - Tones on Tail  
> Handclap - Fitz and The Tantrums  
> Power - Kanye West  
> Don't Stop Me Now - Queen

In much the same fashion that all drunken shenanigans came to fruition, this one began with a debrief which turned into a heated discussion that devolved into a one-sided shouting match.

Technically, Drautos started it, because if he'd never paired Libertus with Luche on the scouting mission in the first place, they wouldn't still be here two hours after everyone else had left the barracks.

"The Niflheim encampment is well outside the range of Lucian territories protected by the Wall. King Regis will be convening tomorrow with his Counsel to decide--"

"I'm not talking about the territories, or the encampment. I'm talking about the lie they've peddled to us about Cleyra--"

Drautos fixed them with a glare that silenced Libertus and had Luche internally taking a step back.

"Your orders stand.  No one is to lay a _finger_ on Cleyra. Do you hear me? Not a _finger_." 

"Captain, if I may." Luche interjected. "The Arturian Charter--"

Drautos slammed his fist onto the file spread open in front of him. 

"Scouting mission." Drautos repeated, and there was deadly finality in the way he said it this time. "Observe. Report. Debrief--"

Both opened their mouths to protest--

" _Dismissed_."

 

* * *

 

The silence during the walk back to the locker room and during the routine scrub-down lasted right up until Libertus slammed his locker door hard enough to have the neighbouring ones rattle. Luche was running his comb through his hair when the commotion happened, chanced a glance at him in the reflection of his mirror—and immediately regretted it. Good grief, you'd have thought they'd lost the war, with the look of utter defeat on his face.

He returned his comb neatly to its place on the locker shelf and turned.

"Talk."

It was like witnessing a dam collapse, the way the sheer enormity of Libertus' disappointment and rage at the system he'd unwittingly become a part of rushed out of him in a torrent of expletives both Galahdian and Lucian. Luche was both impressed and concerned for the man's continued enlistment, should Drautos happen to be walking by at that moment. (He had a tendency to do that at the worst of times, and it was eerily frequent enough that it might as well have been calculated.)

"...'hearth and home' and then they turn around and pull this kind of shit, build a prison and slap a ribbon on it and call it a 'temporary settlement'..."

Luche told himself the only reason he hadn’t told Libertus to suck it up and deal with it was because he was surprised the latter hadn't run his mouth while Drautos was still within earshot. He really looked like he would, but he didn’t this time, and that meant he was learning and learning was progress, and progress, whatever your occupation, merited a reward. Letting Libertus say his piece even though it was basically the same speech every single time, counted as such.

"...just like us, Luche. They're not the enemy.  They don't have anywhere else to go." Libertus was saying as he paced up and down in front of him. "It's completely _fucked_ that we're just going to…”

The rant lasted all of the twenty minute walk it took from the barracks to their usual watering hole, Luche giving a nod here and there, and chiming in with an occasional “yeah” or “uh-huh” in the gaps of silence that presented themselves whenever Libertus took a breath. Libertus in turn was so consumed with stalking justice he didn't even notice his surroundings had switched; that Luche had calmly herded him into a seat at their usual table and he was now venting with his favourite lager in his hand when Crowe slammed her fists onto the table, startling all of them into silence. 

"That's it. That is  _it_!" She declared. With a flourish she produced her Red Card from her pocket, held it up long enough for all to see, and slammed it down right in front of Libertus.  

Tredd let out a dramatic gasp and clutched his heart. He smiled so wide, you'd have thought he’d just won the lottery.

Axis got to his feet immediately. "I need to call the sitter.”

" _Yama_ ," Crowe sing-songed.

As if on cue, Yama appeared beside her and transferred from a serving tray a large three litre glass bottle of green liquid along with a couple of shot glasses. There was a label, but it was written in a script Luche didn’t recognize. Without further preamble, Yama unscrewed the top and started pouring. Crowe received a glass from him and raised it as a toast.

"For Hearth and Home," 

"For Hearth and--" 

" _Shut the fuck up_. Drink." Crowe ordered. 

If she had poured them nail polish remover and told them to drink, they would have been bound by the Red Card to make sure not a single drop was wasted. One by one the glaives downed their shots, and shudders in varying degrees of severity rippled through their bodies. Even Pelna, who reigned undisputed as their strongest drinker/'mostly-sober' driver looked like someone had punched him in the gut, with the bewildered look on his face. Yet even more reason for Luche's glass to remain on the table in front of him, thumb and forefingers lightly resting.

Luche was certain, by virtue of him being the only one who hesitated, that he was the only one doing the math. The Red Card was a glaive drinking tradition. It functioned in the way a reverse-safe word would: you only invoked it when you weren't fucking around and you wanted to make people do shit they normally wouldn’t do sober. And not _kiddie_ shit like doing laps naked around the barracks or taking the Regalia on a joyride, either. Shit that had very _tangible_ , very _permanent_ real-world consequences. Shit that explained why the Crownsguard found their existence _abhorrent_ outside of shared mission objectives and values. "A bunch of apathetic lunatics," the last team evaluation report said. Some of the glaive wore that as a badge of honor.

Crowe pointed proudly to the source of the poison-- _it had to be poison_ \--that had just been downed. "This is the Green Fairy. She’s been on the Food and Wine Safety Organization’s banned list since the twenties. I may or may not have killed a man to procure her, so say hi." 

"Hi Green Fai--" 

Crowe hurled a glass at the nearest wall, and Nyx who just happened to be arriving, ducked in time to see it shatter behind him. 

"What the f--" 

"That was rhetorical, _gentlemen_." 

"Yep, she's definitely drunk." Sonitus declared.

Luche was inclined to agree. Crowe never referred to them as such when they were sober; her go-tos were always a toss-up between 'you morons' or 'you animals'. Drunk!Crowe usually had the facetious factor dialled up to a comfortable 13.

She dusted off her hands and smiled sweetly while watching Yama disappear behind the counter to fetch a broom. "Yama, I'm sorry: they bring out the worst in me-- Tredd'll replace it next pay because he owes me." 

Tredd rose in protest. “Hey—”

“ _Lestallum_ ,” Crowe warned, almost as if it were an incantation and Tredd dropped back into his chair, disgruntled. Yama shrugged as he carried the dustpan full of broken glass behind the counter and emptied it. 

“Lestallum?” Sonitus whispered. Tredd ignored him and shuffled closer to Pelna.

"You know; you two have been acting real chummy lately. What's the deal, you hitting that or...?"

Pelna, who had been presently polishing off the rest of his beer when the insinuation was made, set down his glass and responded with a deadpan expression.

Tredd held up his hands with a laugh.

"Well okay then, just letting you know you don't need to--"

"Tredd," Libertus said. 

"Oh, as if the rest of you weren't thinking the same--"

"You're being rude and disrespectful," Pelna said. "Cut it out."

"Sor- _ry_."

" _Whipped_ ," Sonitus coughed. Tredd mimed a whipping action, with the obligatory sound effect because he was an ass.

"Careful you two, your insecurity’s showing." Nyx teased, flicking each in the forehead on his way to claiming his seat beside Pelna. He edged Tredd back to the outer corner of the bench by obnoxiously wiggling his butt in his face until the latter caved.

"As I was saying," Crowe went, "this is the Green Fairy. Every time someone says something work-related, they get a visit from her. I know we're all pissed at today's directive, but orders are orders and I specifically came out tonight to get shit-faced and forget the fact that I will be complicit in some bureaucratic bullshit that says I'm not allowed to help people."

She paused to down a shot, shuddered, and composed herself.

"You pissbabies have been bitching all night, and I wasn't even going to share this, because _this_? Right here?" she tapped the mouth of the bottle “this is the good stuff. Straight from Shiva’s tits, distilled by monks and moolahs in caves and sold to exploitative capitalists who bottle and package them for yours truly to enjoy. But if sharing her means I don't have to sit through another _soliloquy_ about _The System_ and that worthless _Arturian Charter_ \--then it's well worth the price."

“Seconded,” Pelna called.

"He's just saying that because you're his girlfriend." Axis called from the counter where he was using Yama's phone.

"I'm not his girlfriend, shut the fuck up!" Crowe yelled back. Axis grinned, then turned his back to focus on the person on the other end of the line.

"Still seconded," Pelna added.

Crowe winked at him.

"Thanks babe."

All eyes shot back and forth between those two suspiciously. Pelna shrugged, his blank expression giving zero indicator of whether that statement was an admission or otherwise.

" _What are they_?" Tredd whispered to Nyx. Nyx smiled and beckoned and Tredd leaned in, eager for the dirt.

"They...are _none of your business_." Nyx bust out laughing as Tredd shoved him. 

“So that’s it?” Libertus confirmed cynically. “Shots every time someone talks about work?”

“What a waste," Tredd remarked, in much the same tone.  "You don't need the Red Card for _that_.”

“When did I say I _did_?” Crowe asked.

Everyone stared.

She placed both hands on the table, fixing all of them with a dangerous leer.

"We're going to have a blast tonight gents, but first, I'm going to need to consult with our _Technical_ Officer Sir Lazarus."

Everyone looked at Luche.

 _Definitely going to need to be drunk for this_ , Luche decided.

He tossed back his shot and as the liquid burned foul and vengeful from his esophagus to his stomach, he hoped no one would die this time round.

 

* * *

 

One and a half hours and as many Green Fairy visits as one could squeeze in later, they’d split into pairs as per Crowe's orders, and Libertus and Pelna had taken cover just fifty metres from the mouth of a cave where a swarm of Killer Bees nested. At their feet was a two litre blend of natural oils designed to mimic the Tot pheromone. Libertus had been uncharacteristically taciturn the whole way and sweating despite the chill in the night air, and as much as Pelna hated small talk, the guy looked like the distraction would do him good. Thankfully, Pelna knew a thing or two hundred about bees as he felt like he'd exhausted every other topic conceivable during the fifteen minute hike up here.

“Tot's pheromone is mainly used to attract worker honeybees or help bees that've lost their way back to the hive. It's named after the zoologist who discovered it,” he explained, in the middle of limbering up: long strides back and forth, a few lunges, all the stretches. 

Libertus swayed on his feet. He couldn't tell if it was because of the information overload, or the Green Fairy, or the fact that he was deathly afraid of bees and one of the newer members of the glaive was on his way to finding out. 

At face value Pelna was nice enough, but he largely kept to himself, and Libertus felt justified in using tonight to get to know him better. He needed to know if that self-imposed isolation was because he enjoyed being alone or because he secretly hated everyone in the glaive and therefore enjoyed being alone.

So far all Libertus knew was the guy was intimidated by him, thanks to Libertus serving in the glaive longer. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to breakdown this fallacy of seniority and remind Pelna that they were still on equal level, still doing the same job and that the only glaive that held any actual seniority was the Glaive Commander himself. It had nothing,  _absolutely nothing_ ,to do with the fact that he harbored a protectiveness towards Crowe and had noticed an increasing degree of familiarity between the two of them lately, and that Crowe, like Nyx, had a tendency to rush into things.

"How's...how you know--" Libertus belched and gestured vaguely to the bottle at their feet. "Things. Working. Bees. How's--" _oh fuck_ , the ground was moving again-- 

Pelna steadied him. He took a step back and shrugged. "My mom was an apiarist."

"Api.. _ape._ Wossname _._ "

" _Beekeeper_. Sorry, I just-- _apiarist_  has a nice ring to it. I used to have so much fun looking after them after school. And, oh man, me and my cousin used to have  _bearding_  comps and those were fun."

 _Used to._  If he wasn't so consumed by the fear of being stung, Libertus would have fixated on that as a gateway to a potential friendship.  

"And we're gon...gonna pour that--"

Libertus stared at the mouth of the cave, feeling his insides rearranging themselves again. Killer bees didn't require anymore motivation to hunt down humans and well, _kill_ them and here they were giving them just that.

"All over ourselves, yes." Pelna confirmed.

"All... _over_." Libertus repeated faintly. "Will it...what's it and thing. _Work good_."

"Dunno," replied Pelna, an unreasonably giddyness to his tone as he twisted the top half of his body left and right. "No one's ever tested that hypothesis. Guess that makes us pioneers. Also you should stretch. It's downhill but those things are _fast_.  You might get shin splits."

Libertus squinted at him in the moonlight.

"It's gotta be done the old fashioned way," Pelna insisted. "Can't warp because the crystal's magic would cleanse the pheromone right off us."

"Old fash...oh  _fuck me_."

"Still; it's likely the pheromone will make them think  _we're one of them_ , so they'll  _ignore_  us and if  _that_  happens--"

"Gimme the bottle."

 

* * *

 

  
At least one mile west of Libertus and Pelna's position, Nyx and Axis were stealth-crawling on their stomachs along a grassy plain toward a herd of sleeping garula. They were both wearing night-vision goggles. They were arguing.

"This is the  _worst_." Axis hiccuped. "Thing. I've-- _hic_ \--done."

"Hold up," Nyx said, and Axis slumped face-first in the grass beside him, groaning. Nyx patted him on the back, then turned the dial on his goggles, scanning the herd. "Now where's the big one..."

"... _worst_. Thing." Axis slurred, raising his head groggily. "And I've  _killed_  people.  You bastard--" 

"Just think of it as a love tap," Nyx suggested. "A nice love tap."

Axis glared at him.

" _Electricity!_ If my kid. My  _kisd_.  _Kiss_ \--" 

"--if your  _kids_  found out that you rescued other kids just like them from a detention center?" Nyx retorted, still scanning the herd. "You'd be a  _hero_ , Axis. Don't you wanna set a good example for them?"

"You're  _not_." Axis shouldered into him roughly. " _Listen_!" he hissed. "I don't want t-- _hic_ \-- _hero_ ,  _fuckwit!_ I want to go home. To my-- _hic_ \-- _kiss_."

" _Kids,_ Axis. Astrals." Nyx shook his head. "Were you always this mouthy or is that the Green Fairy?"

"Kids." Axis started counting off his fingers. "Darsh and Rani and--"

"And Nimeeta." Nyx tapped Axis on the shoulder, pointing where the garulessa stood with its head bent in sleep, the tip of its horn gently bending the blades of grass beneath. "And they're gonna be  _so proud_. Come on farmboy. Time to put those skills to use."

"Ramuh  _help_." Axis groaned as he crept after Nyx.  

 

* * *

 

  
While Axis agonized over the moral repercussions of disturbing sentient lifeforms, Sonitus and Crowe had located the den of a King Behemoth in an abandoned junkyard. The only plus side of this venture was that they were in full fledged camo and were sufficiently plastered enough that they thought the warning signs were amusing.

" _Crowe_..." Sonitus said, as the latter pulled him up onto the rock formation overlooking the creature. He staggered woozily and shook his head, because he couldn't quite believe his eyes. There were two, no  _three_  Crowes with recurve bows slung over their shoulders holding up a digital anemometer and muttering calculations under their breath.

"Hmm?" said Crowe, turning, but not looking away from the device screen.

"Why are there so many of you?"

"More fun to go round." Crowe shrugged. She pocketed the anemometer. "Ready?"

Sonitus nodded solemnly, then unslung his own recurve bow from his shoulder. He plucked one of the explosive arrows they'd pilfered from a hunter's truck earlier from his quiver.  Dave Something, or whoever. That was the name on the license plate.

"Are you sure there's only one?"

"Course," replied Crowe. "Behemoths are very territorial. Natural loners. They have no friends and that's why they're so mad all the time. Sometimes all they need is a hug.  Made of phosphorous and gasoline." She cackled to herself. 

 _No friends._  Before he even realized he was doing it, Sonitus lowered his bow and peered curiously at her(s?):

"Is that why you like hanging with Pelna so much?"

" _What_? Fuck!"

Caught by surprise, Crowe had inadvertently loosed her arrow. The beast sprang awake immediately at her voice,  and the fact that it was looking _straight at them_  when Crowe’s arrow exploded at its feet sobered the glaives up in an instant.

Sonitus grabbed a smoke bomb from his pouch and lobbed it.  

And then they were running.

 

* * *

 

  
In a not-that-much safer location, because they had a limited window before the guard patrolling the outer perimeter of the Cleyra Centre returned, Luche was fighting the urge to forget about the fuse-box he was supposed to be sabotaging in favor of slugging Tredd right in the jaw. He needed to make the faulty wiring look as _natural_ as possible to eliminate all suspicions of foul play, and that took  _concentration_  that Tredd was  _detracting_   _from_  by being more interested in speculating on their teammates' personal lives instead of being a lookout.

"I'm telling you Luche, if they're not A Thing  _now_ , they will be."

"Pliers." Luche ordered.

Tredd passed them to him, looking affronted.

"Did you know he has a herb garden? How come no one told me? _I fucking love cilantro_."

"Why is that so important?" Luche set down the pliers and wiped his brow. He stuck out a gloved hand. "Goblin piss."

"You guys all think I'm bullying him but I'm  _not_." Tredd gestured furiously. "He's just so  _solitary_ , you know? And it's not healthy. My old company, we had this one guy _Fratley_ \--"

" _Goblin piss,_ Tredd."

"Right, my bad." Tredd handed it over.  "Perfect mercenary: did the job, asked no questions, rinse and repeat. Always kept to himself, and rarely came out for drinks.

Then one night it's my turn to invite him out. I show up to his apartment and first thing I hear is shit sounds _fucked up_ on the other end of the door. So I kick it down. And you know what; it turns out he was a diabetic. He was  _literally dying_.  _Diabetic Ketoacidosis_. Same thing my old man had.  The ambulance got there in time, and we kept a closer eye on him after that.  Look, all I'm saying is that if Pel turns out to be a Fratley and has issuse of his own we can hel--"

Luche carefully opened the cannister and fought the urge to retch as the foul stench of old socks swirled in rotting meat and dipped in blue cheese flooded his nostrils. He tossed some of it around the base of the pole that the fuse-box was attached to. Tredd covered his nose and mouth.

" _Fuuuck_. I think my nose is gonna fall off. That is  _rank_. Ooh! Careful you don't get any on your skin, it's acidic--"

"Hence, the gloves." Luche sprinkled some onto the wiring, closed the fuse-box and tossed the remainder on the cover.

Tredd checked his watch.   _Eight, seven, six..._

"So the moral of the story is: you care," Luche concluded.

"And _no one's_ gonna believe you if you tell them." Tredd winked.

He touched his earpiece just as all the lights went out.

 

* * *

 

_"Shields are down."_

Pelna had just finished smearing that oil all over his torso and onto his khakis when Tredd's update rang in both their earpieces. Libertus returned from burying the empty bottle with considerably more color to his pallor than in comparison to when they'd first arrived (he was still drunk, though). They made their way to the cave together and were nearly at the mouth when Pelna stopped, frowning.

"What?"

Pelna crossed his arms.  "They're not coming out. I guess we really are invisible."

"Oh well, we tried." Libertus turned and happily started for home, but Pelna caught his arm.

Libertus didn't like the grin on his face or the potato sack he'd pulled from his jacket pocket. 

"Plan B," Pelna said with a shrug.

 

* * *

 

" _What_!"

" _Serpentine_!" Axis hollered, somersaulting over a rock just as it was obliterated by the rampaging herd behind them.  "Zig-zag!"

Nyx was laughing like a fucking maniac as they weaved through the plain, dodging the leading garulessa's furious attempts to gore them.  Evidently the Green Fairy had cranked that trademark recklessness so high he had turned into some sort of daredevil.  The near-misses the garulessa made only served to infuriate it further.  It would hunt that man down to the ends of Eos. 

"How much further?"

"Cleyra's just past that hill and then we're clear!" Axis yelled back. Nyx yanked Axis to him and held his phone up.

"Selfie!"

Axis vowed that if the garulessa didn't trample them, he was going to kill Nyx with his bare hands.

 

* * *

 

  
"He's not a fucking pet project!  _What is wrong with you?_ " Crowe hollered.  

They vaulted over a rusted chevy just seconds before the behemoth launched it and several others into the air. Sonitus fired another explosive arrow blindly over his shoulder. It nailed the beast right between the eyes, the shock wave of the explosion knocking it onto its back, but not for long. As the behemoth shook off the inertia he and Crowe reached the wall that marked the edge of its territory and slid under the gap. Sonitus dragged Crowe up with him.

"Go! Go! _Go_!"  
  
A meteor blast tore a hole through the concrete right after they cleared the wall and had climbed onto Crowe's bike. The behemoth let out a roar and leapt through the gap, claws fully extended, missing the back of Sonitus' neck by two inches.  Sonitus lobbed grenade after grenade over his shoulder as they sped through the rocky plain, not bothering to check what kind it was.  It didn't matter at this point, so long as they all did the same job: prolong the inevitable.

And still, he somehow found it prudent to continue their previous conversation: 

"So do you like him or what?" He yelled.

" _What_?"

"Do you like him!" 

"Of course I like him! He makes me laugh and he can cook!"

"No! I mean--" Sonitus spotted a felled tree resting on a boulder ahead and braced himself. They flew off the makeshift ramp into the night, and Sonitus momentarily forgot that they had death on their tail in favour of laughing. He pointed.  

"Down there!  Libertus and Pelna!"

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Crowe laughed, not caring in the least when a ball of fire whizzed past her head, singeing some of her hair.  

 

* * *

 

“HALT! THIS IS A RESTRICTED AREA—”

"Get out of the way!" Pelna waved frantically at the soldiers standing guard at the Cleyra Center entrance, presently waving in a van from an electrical company. 

"Killer Bee swarm! Close the gates!" Libertus yelled.

For once in his life, Libertus was glad those men were good at their job.  The gates closed right as they approached. 

Pelna hurled the sack with the Killer Bee Queen into the compound before Libertus dragged him down into the dirt. The swarm surged past them overhead and descended into the camp to the queen's rescue. 

Pandemonium erupted inside the camp.  Libertus covered his head, wincing at the screams. Pelna on the other hand was _ecstatic_. He shook Libertus’ shoulder enthusiastically. Libertus was certain he’d never seen anyone so happy—it was endearing and terrifying.

 _And_ _familiar,_ he realized.

“It worked! It actually _worked_!  Mom was right! This is the greatest night of my life!”

And all Libertus could was smile nervously and think:

 _Dear Gods, they’re made for each other._  

 

* * *

 

 

The garula stampede reached Cleyra the same moment the behemoth barrelled through the south gate to terrorize the soldiers who were already having a hard enough time fending off the killer bee swarm.  Nyx and Axis were perched on the branch of a tree they’d hoisted themselves up onto at the last minute. 

“Woo!” Nyx panted, grinning as he clapped Axis on the back.  He had a tiny cut above his right temple, but appeared not to notice the trickle of blood streaming out of it and down his face.  “So. Up for round two?”

Round two?

 _Round_ _two_?

“YOU’RE DEAD—” Axis hollered, lunging at him. 

 

* * *

 

It was a little past 6AM when Tredd and Luche caught up with the rest of the gang at Yama’s.  The news about the ‘unprecedented animal attack’ on Cleyra and simultaneous ‘mysterious disappearance’ of the refugees had broken out on every television channel and known radio frequency that Luche had to switch his phone off at one point because his civilian friends were hassling him for inside information.  He’d deal with them as soon as he got some of Yama’s signature bacon and eggs into his stomach. 

Pelna, being the only decent human being and the only one who still had energy to stand, had been at the grill to lend Yama a helping hand. He was animatedly regaling him about Tot or _Thot_ , or whatever that bee pheromone thing was.  Luche made a mental note to advise Dave at the Hunters association to get in touch. 

He dropped down in the seat across from Nyx and--

“ _What the fuck happened to you_?” Luche demanded.

Nyx grinned through a mouthful of bacon and tomato, and in spite of the welt on his jaw and a rapidly swelling left eye. 

“ _Ga-u-esha_.”

“ _Right_.” said Luche, not believing a word of that. He started eating.  “And Axis?”

Nyx swallowed and shrugged.  “Kids.”

A few spaces down, Crowe had finished her meal and had yanked Sonitus by the ear on her way to the counter.  She pulled out a bench after Yama took her plate and knocked on the counter to get Pelna’s attention while he made breakfast for himself.  

“Hey,” Crowe said.

“Oh, hey Crowe.  Fun night, huh?”

“The _best_.  Listen, I heard...”

“Oh, yeah...on the rooftop, but I have to.... walk her dog every morning before work.  A couple of herbs, but mostly flowers.  Lavender, yarrow, marigolds, that sort of thing.  It's tiny, though.”

“Can I come see?”

Sonitus snickered, as did Libertus. Nyx raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and kept on eating. 

Only Tredd appeared to not enjoy himself, chewing vengefully through an omelette while he regarded the pair.  “Something’s happening over there,” he scowled. 

“Mind your own business,” Libertus told him. He turned to Luche. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you mean?” Luche asked, stirring a sugar cube into his coffee.

“Breaking protocol.  It’s not—you know; _you_.  Last I checked you always follow Drautos’ orders to the _letter_.”

Luche regarded him over his coffee mug, expression blank. 

“Last _I_ checked, king behemoths, killer bees and garulessae didn’t have _fingers_.”

Libertus stared at him for a long moment, eventually raising his coffee mug to him in awe.

“ _Nice_.” 

“Thank you.” 

Luche clinked their mugs together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Drautos met Cor outside the still smoldering ruins of what Drautos had once considered the lowest point of Lucian foreign policy.  He’d been wondering why firecrackers had been going off in the immigrant district onwards from 5AM, and now he had his answer.  Cor and the Crownsguard had worked round the clock last night to fend off the beasts and salvage what they could of the facility, but the rising casualties weren't worth it in the end.

Cor straightened from where he’d been picking at something in the dirt and handed it over to Drautos. A civilian might have scoffed and thought that they’d just been handed a piece of rubbish. 

Drautos froze, staring at the red card in abject horror.

The corners of Cor’s mouth twitched.

“They tell me it was _goblins_.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Tot and Fratley are FFIX references  
> There is a pheromone IRL called Nasonov's pheromone, named for the zoologist who discovered it but anyway yay bees! ^_^  
> Yes the Green Fairy is based on absinthe.  
> Lets just pretend that Regis' power makes it harder for a glaive to get drunk...instead of the fact that they'd all literally be dead of alcohol poisoning


	5. mistletoe mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 6 and 7 Theme: Creator's Choice//Holidays
> 
> Pair: Crowe/Pelna
> 
> Modern AU. Yuletide Ficlet
> 
> Rated PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small glimpse into the domestic yuletide life of my rarepair otp, where Pel is learning about Xmas

The funny thing–and this wasn’t a dig at him or anything–but the funny thing about Pelna was that he listened when she _least expected him too_ , and more importantly _remembered to follow through_ (though that part was a given on any day, usually). 

Today, seeing the state of his usually immaculate apartment awash in complete Yuletide chaos, she couldn’t help but wonder if his vision and execution of said vision had somehow gotten lost in translation; or if he was just fucking with her, because if she had one thing to nit-pick, it was the fact that there was mistletoe hanging _everywhere_.

“ _So_ …” Pelna began, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe, because she hadn’t yet crossed the threshold. “We gonna do this the ‘nice’ way or…”

Crowe let out a snort and dragged him in to kiss her at the same time he muttered,

“That’s not how this is supposed to work—” and then, when he could breathe again, and had hoisted her into a fireman’s carry over his shoulder— “naughty it is.”

"You dork!” Crowe laughed, banging her fists against his back. “I said _one_! You only need _one_!”

“Blah blah blah something something eggnog,” muttered Pelna, kicking the door closed behind them.


End file.
